


A Single Soul Dwelling in Two Bodies

by Brennan4



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Aristotle quotes abound, Gen, Hush - Freeform, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennan4/pseuds/Brennan4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick didn't think Bruce Wayne had friends, until he met a man named Thomas Elliot. Over the years, he meets Tommy five times, learning there is much more to people than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Soul Dwelling in Two Bodies

The first time Dick met Thomas Elliot was at a birthday party for Bruce. It was the first of Bruce’s birthdays he had ever been to. He spent the first hour of the party trying to get over how strange it all seemed to him. At the circus, birthday parties were small and personal. It was a time for your closest family and friends to spend some quality time with you. This party was just the opposite. It was filled with close to a hundred people. None of them seemed very interested in Bruce, and he didn’t seem interested in any of them.

This is why Dick was surprised when a man with red hair asked, “Excuse me, have you seen Bruce Wayne anywhere?”

Dick shook his head. “I’ve actually been looking for him too. I don’t think I’ve seen him since the party started.”

The man grimaced. “That’s Bruce Wayne for you. He never did like these things, so it doesn’t really surprise me that his adopted son hasn’t even seen him. I remember him being like that when he was your age.”

Dick was overcome with curiosity. In the four months he had been living with Bruce, he still knew little about him. He couldn’t pass up an opportunity to learn about his past.

“How do you know Bruce?”

“We were best friends as kids.”

Dick fought back the urge to gasp in surprise. “Bruce Wayne had friends?”

The man laughed. “Of course he did. Everybody has friends. As Aristotle said, a friend is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.”

Dick didn’t know who Aristotle was, but he liked the idea. “He just never seems friendly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him really happy around other people, you know?”

In fact, Dick didn’t think he had ever seen him truly happy at all.

“The thing about Bruce is, he cares very deeply about a very small number of special people. A friend to all is a friend to none, in Aristotle’s words.”

Without thinking, Dick said, “I wish I was one of those people.”

The man frowned. He shuffled awkwardly like he didn’t know what to say. Eventually, he murmured, “I’m sure you are! Bruce just has a hard time showing how he care. That’s all. Please don’t get upset.”

A shadow passed over the two. Bruce appeared as if out of thin air, unspotted by the dozens of guests who came just to see him.

“Hello Tommy.”

“Happy birthday Bruce, it’s been a while.”

“It sure has,” said Bruce. “Too long. I read about that operation you performed in the papers. Good job.”

“Oh come on Bruce,” said Tommy with a laugh. “It’s your party, we should be talking about you. I was just telling Dick what you were like when we were kids.”

Bruce’s eyes lit up as memories flowed through him. He smiled and began chatting with Tommy. It wasn’t the smile that Dick was used to seeing, the one he put on for the cameras and Wayne Industries board meetings. It was a genuinely happy smile. It was the first time Dick had ever seen Bruce look like that.

* * *

 

The next time he saw Thomas Elliot was two years later at a Martha Wayne Foundation fundraiser. Any expectations of interesting conversation had left Dick long ago. People usually didn’t want to talk to someone as young as him when the party began. By this point, most of them had too much champagne. Dick never understood how these people, supposedly the most successful in all of Gotham, had so little self control.

Tommy came late to the party. He explained than an emergency operation had taken longer than expected, but that it had been a success.

“So how are things with Bruce?” he asked. Tommy was clearly just as annoyed with the inebriated guests as Dick. He gave a huff of disgust each time someone walked past.

“Things are going much better.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “How so? What changed?”

Dick couldn’t tell him what had really changed. That Bruce was secretly Batman, and that he was now Robin. But he still wanted to give the man some kind of answer.

“Well, I guess he finally opened up. He told me some secrets, let me know he trusted me.”

“That’s good. The best sign that Bruce appreciates you is when he finally starts to reveal his secrets. Hell, I consider myself one of his best friends, and I know he hasn’t told me everything.”

“Of course, he probably keeps some things a secret for good reason.”

“I don’t think so,” said Tommy. “I think it’s just a part of his personality. If you ask me, it weighs him down. I’ll never understand it.”

“Maybe it’s because of his parents. I remember what I was like when mine… you know.”

Dick noticed a strange change in Tommy’s demeanor. He was practically scowling, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. “I don’t know. I guess I never will.”

Without another word, Tommy turned and left Dick alone.

* * *

 

“The police put out a press release about the Jane Doe killings,” said Batman. “You should probably see the video.”

Robin nodded and pulled up a chair by the Batcomputer. Jane Doe had been one of the most depraved and elusive criminals they had ever dealt with. She impersonated her victims for days, sometimes weeks, before the bodies were ever discovered. Nobody had any idea who she really was. They needed any help they could get.

The video started. Gordon had brought in two experts to give their opinions on the killer, and inform the public on what to look out for. The first was a psychiatrist, Hugo Strange. He went on about how the killer suffered a dissociative identity and had no concept of right and wrong. This was nothing Batman hadn’t concluded weeks ago when the killings started. Robin was surprised to see that the second was Thomas Elliot.

“The police brought me in for my take on the surgical expertise of the killer. In my professional opinion, the killer has very little medical training, if any. The instruments used and the application to the skin all suggest an amateur, or possibly someone working in the meat industry."

The conference went on, mostly consisting of the police explaining details the two vigilantes already knew. Robin noticed Batman had become lost in thought.

“Bruce, are you alright?”

Bruce snapped out of his distracted state. “Yes. I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see Tommy.”

“You haven’t seen him in a while, have you?”

“No,” said Batman with a sigh. “I feel like he’s been pushing me away in the last two years. He seems so much colder than he used to be.”

“Do you think something’s going on with him?”

“I don’t know,” said Batman with a shrug. “Sometimes he would get like this when we were kids, especially after his father died. He scared me, sometimes.”

Robin didn’t know what to think of that. He couldn’t imagine Bruce being afraid of anything or anyone, let alone one of his closest friends.

* * *

 

Robin fought the rising nausea as he looked closer at the body.

“This is the third Identity Thief victim we’ve had. There are going to be more.”

Robin would never understand how Bruce retained his composure at crime scenes. Especially not ones like this. The face was wrapped in bandages like a mummy and dark blood seeped from the gunshot wound at the center of the chest.

“I think the face was removed post-mortem, just like the others,” said Robin, trying to hide his discomfort. “The bandages were applied after he shot him.”

“The bandages are high grade,” explained Batman. “They wouldn’t have been cheap. This kind are almost used exclusively in hospitals. It’s his way of trying to tell us something.”

“What do you think he’s trying to say?”

“He’s telling us he’s a surgeon. He doesn’t want to be compared to Jane Doe. He’s a professional.”

“I still wonder why he chose his victims. Apart from their skin color, none of them have anything in common. Doe went after people she wanted to impersonate.”

“That’s a good thought, Robin. I don’t think the Identity Thief is striking at random. We just need to make the connection.”

Robin took one last sample of evidence and turned. He fired his grapnel at a nearby rooftop and swung away, the Caped Crusader close behind him. When they caught Jane Doe last year, he hoped he’d never have to deal with another serial killer like her. But that was the thing about Gotham. There were always more sociopaths waiting to fill the void when one got caught.

* * *

 

Dick was just finishing a conversation with Artemis  when something in the corner of his eye.

“Excuse me, Art, but I have to check on something.”

“What’s got your attention?” she asked in reply.

“Something weird. Bruce is here…” Dick murmured.

“So? What’s so weird about that?”

"Usually Alfred picks me up.”

Dick didn’t wait for further response from Artemis as he walked down to see Bruce.

“Is something wrong? Why isn’t Alfred here?”

Bruce said, "I’ll explain everything in the car.”

Dick sat in the back seat, feeling supremely uncomfortable about everything. As Bruce started driving, he asked, “What’s going on?”

Bruce turned and aimed a silver pistol at him. “Shut up and don’t try anything stupid.”

The man’s voice was slightly different from ow Bruce normally sounded. It was like he was doing an impression of Bruce Wayne and trying too hard. Up close, Dick could see faint scar lines litter the man’s face.

“You’re not Bruce Wayne.”

The imitation of Bruce’s voice said, “Very good. You’re smart for a circus brat.”

“Who are you really?"

“Someone who hates Bruce Wayne. And someone who he thought was a friend.”

“What do you want?”

“For you to stop asking questions, mostly. Hush. I’ve got the rest of this figured out.”

As his captor kept his eyes on the road, Dick made subtle movement towards his backpack. The kidnapper hadn’t taken it from him. He knew he couldn’t use it to overpower him or he would just get shot. Instead,he pressed a button that sent a silent distress signal to the Batcave. He didn’t like having to wait around to get rescued, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

Dick decided to stall for time, taking as much of the driver’s attention as he could.

“How did you get your face to look like that?”

“I thought I told you to stop asking questions.”

“I’m just curious. It’s freaky.”

“I had to perform some skin grafts on less than willing patients to get it just right. Perhaps you heard on the news about the Identity Thief?”

Dick choked down panic. He was trapped in a car with a serial killer who looked just like the person he trusted most. The naive part of him was still hoping this was some kind of nightmare.

A jet black blur sped past the car. The Batmobile turned and swung back around towards the car, ramming it into the side of a bridge. The man with Bruce’s face spat and wiped the blood off his face. His masterpiece now had more scratches than just the byproduct of the surgery. He stepped out of the car, two pistols in his hands.

Batman emerged from the cockpit and leapt at the imposter. The man fired wildly, his bullets tearing into Batman’s cape and pounding his body armor. He ultimately did nothing to slow Batman’s advance, and the Dark Knight was quickly upon him. Despite an earnest attempt to fight back, he was no match for Batman,who was fighting with more fury than usual. Soon the imposter was on the ground, cuffed and unconscious.

Batman approached Dick.

“Who was that?”

Streaks of sadness showed throughout Batman’s face, despite the obscuring mask.

“Someone I thought was my only friend. Thomas Elliot.”

Dick realized that Bruce was going to have a lot of trouble dealing with this. He put his hand on the Caped Crusader’s shoulder.

“You’ll always have me, Bruce. No matter what, I’m your friend.”

A faint smile perched on Batman’s lips. “I know.”

Dick picked his cellphone out of his backpack, now free to do so without Elliot watching.

“I think I’m going to call Wally.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Dick.”

The end.


End file.
